Chapter 1, The Pitch

"Charts, reports, diagrams, pointer, laser pointer, pen…pen…pen…BOY!"

Vexen attacked the clutter in his office with a ferocity reserved for the most eccentric academics, throwing all matter of papers and utensils in the air. "Boy! Where's my pen?!"

His loyal apprentice Zexion entered the room, carrying notes of his own. "Which pen?"

"My presenting pen!" Vexen clarified, now desperately searching under his desk. "The one I use to sternly underline my theses!"

"I'm sure Xemnas will be able to keep up, Vexen."

"But what about…" Vexen attempted to get up, only banging his head on his desk. "DAMN IT ALL!"

"Are you alright…"

"YES, I'M ALRIGHT!" Vexen shrugged off Zexion's help, rubbing his skull as he got to his feet. "But what about the others! You know this group. It's a circus of fools! We need to be as elaborate as possible."

"Look, we can do without the pen, Vexen. Here," Zexion searched his cloak, revealing his preferred writing utensil. "We can use this."

Vexen snatched the pen from his assistant's grasp, eying it carefully. "But…it's a red pen."

"…yes, it is."

"RED IMPLIES ERROR! IT DEMANDS CORRECTION! TO PAINT MY RESEARCH IN RED SUGGESTS MY WORK NEEDS REVISION! ARE YOU SUGGESTING MY WORK NEEDS IMPROVEMENT?!"

"Just use the pen, Vexen."

"Gah! The gall!" He pocketed the pen in one of his handy zippers. "Fine! Is everything in order?"

"I have the whiteboard ready…"

"And the replica?"

"Ready for a demonstration." Zexion put his hand on his mentor's shoulder. "Don't worry, Vexen. This pitch will go smoothly. I know it."

Vexen smiled, in spite of his nerves. "Alright. Let's stun the world!"

"…and for those reasons, I think we should have a weekly game night on Thursdays to help improve our overall synergy so we can truly function as a unit."

"Thank you, Luxord," Xemnas drawled, perched on the highest of chairs in the Round Room. "We will consider this 'game night.' But fair warning: you would be responsible for the acquisition of said games." He waved Luxord off. "You may return to your seat."

Moderate applause followed as Luxord left the stage.

"Alright." Xemnas eyed his memo-pad. "Up next on today's agenda is Vexen and Zexion's…" He released a beleaguered sigh. "…Replica Program."

Zexion wheeled the whiteboard onto the stage, and right behind him was Vexen with his papers. Tired applause preceded their arrival.

"Thank you, thank you," Vexen responded to the admittedly weak greeting. "I assure you we won't be long this time."

"I should hope so," Saix spoke up. "We have other matters to attend to besides this robot business."

Vexen glared at the moon-man with contempt before continuing, "You need not concern yourself with 'other matters' after you've seen what I have to show you today!"

"Out with it then!" Xaldin urged his colleague. "We have bagels and coffee after this meeting, and I'll be damned if you prolong this meeting any further."

"Yes. O-of course." Vexen cleared his throat. "As many of you know, we've reached a roadblock in our creation of Kingdom Hearts. How many hearts have we collected, Zexion?"

Zexion handily drew a 'zero' on the whiteboard, to which Vexen pointed with an undeniable enthusiasm. "That's right! None! Would anybody wish to explain why?"

A bored silence followed. Someone released a dry cough.

Vexen decided to answer his own question. "Because despite our best efforts, we have yet to recruit a Keyblade wielder. That was the case the last time we pitched the idea, such is the case now."

"Do I detect a criticism of our admissions department?" Saix interjected. "Because I'm confident Xigbar has been hard at work scouting talent."

"Wha?" Xigbar slurred, as if woken from a deep slumber. "Oh. Oh, yeah! Super-hard. Keyblade wielders aren't as out and proud as they used to be. Is it time for bagels and coffee, yet?"

"NO, IT'S…" Vexen caught himself, regaining his temper. "Anyway, as of this moment, there are no active Keyblade wielders. But should that change, what is our plan? To passively wait for the wielder to collect enough hearts? Our Organization is a lot of things, but dare I say, passive is not one of them!"

Vexen anticipated applause. There was none.

"Yes! We are not passive!" Vexen swallowed, wiping some sweat from his brow. "So when that Keyblade wielder should arrive, we should be proactive. Hence, the Replica Program!" He turned on his projector, and slid his paperwork under the lens, presenting his research on the SMART Board behind Xemnas for everyone to see.

"Whoa!" Demyx cried in shock. Vexen's hope was piqued that someone took interest in his work. "When did we get that SMART Board installed?"

Vexen was defeated yet again. "As I was saying, Part One: data collection…"

"Wait. There are parts to this?" Axel cried in disbelief.

"Yes, if you'll just let me elaborate…"

Axel groaned, burying his face in his hands, catching the eye of the Superior. "No. 8 has a point, Vexen. If you'd just highlight the significant aspects of your project…"

"But…they're all significant!"

"I doubt it," Saix said snidely.

"Fine!" Vexen surrendered. "Zexion! My pen!" Zexion handed him the red pen, with which Vexen began underlining parts of his report. "First, we'll have to engage the wielder in combat…"

"Is that a red pen?" Marluxia interrupted Vexen's presentation. "That's rather unprofessional. I can't tell if you're emphasizing something or correcting it." He followed this sentence with the haughtiest of haughty laughter.

Vexen glared at Zexion, his mind seared with a thousand regrets, the least of which was the loss of his presenting pen.

"Enough of this drivel!" Xaldin interjected yet again. "Get to the point already."

"Fine!" Vexen turned off the projector. "We shall present the abilities of one our prototypes. This prototype is a replica…of one of our own members!"

A slightly excited murmuring resonated throughout the Round Room. Vexen couldn't help but smile, having finally hooked his audience. Xemnas raised his hand, signaling his unit to cease their rumblings.

"Zexion…bring forth the replica!" Vexen commanded his apprentice.

Zexion opened a trunk, the body of the Organization's own Larxene falling out. That is to say, a convincing duplicate.

"Behold, Prototype 11!" Vexen held the limp replica up. "I need just turn her on…"

"Ugh! Gross!" Larxene cried in revulsion.

"What is it?! What is it now?!" Vexen demanded to know what minor stupidity interrupted his presentation yet again.

"You have a mannequin of me?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"A-actually, it's a carbon copy…" Zexion dared to speak up.

"That's worse!" Larxene snapped back. "What kind of sick perverts do you have to be to do something like this?"

A much more engaged Xigbar seconded that, now very much awake and paying close attention to Vexen's lecture. "You bet."

"Of course you'd look at this from a base perspective such as that!" Vexen dismissed Larxene. "Now, back to the demonstration…"

"No. 11 has a point. I think this violates one of our Terms and Conditions…" Xemnas interjected.

Saix already had the document before him. "Article 19, Section H. An Organization member is prohibited from violating the privacy of his or her colleagues. I believe cloning someone falls under here somewhere."

"Oh, piffle to those rules!" Vexen cried in anger.

The Organization collectively gasped at this controversial statement.

"We can't say piffle to the rules!" Luxord protested. "Life depends on rules! We need rules!" His fellow members nodded in agreement and rewarded this statement with thunderous applause. Vexen was stunned.

Xemnas nodded. "Indeed. Vexen, you have created a sin against nature much more grievous than anyone of us can imagine. And for that you must…" He paused, before turning to Saix. "What's the penalty for creating sins against nature?"

Saix flipped through the pages of the Organization's Terms and Conditions before settling on the desired page. "A two-week suspension."

"What?!" Vexen cried in shock.

"Two-week suspension it is." Xemnas raised his hand. "Meeting adjourned. Bagels and coffee in the Grey Room in five. Farewell."

And just like that, one by one, the Organization members faded away, leaving a flabbergasted Vexen and Zexion alone with their Larxene look-alike.

The apprentice finally broke the silence. "If it's any consolation, a two-week suspension gives us more time for research."

"Bah!" Vexen shrugged Zexion off, retreating from the Round Room to wallow in his sorrow.

As dire as a two-week suspension is, Vexen was still allowed to partake in bagels and coffee. However, since no one wished to have his company, he did so outside, looking out at the Skyline That Never Was. Feebly, he nibbled at his everything-bagel.

A true irony, we Nobodies eating everything-bagels. As if we can ever aspire to more than nothing. Vexen sighed. At least I can't.

"Is everything alright, Vexen?"

Vexen turned to find Zexion joining him on the balcony. "As alright as you could expect."

"I've been asking around," Zexion propped himself against the railing, sipping his coffee. "Lexaeus was intrigued by our presentation, at least."

"Oh, wonderful. The golem supports our research. I feel so encouraged." Vexen scoffed. "Why do you get to eat inside anyway?"

"According to Saix, I was an accomplice to your degeneracy. By that logic, they gave me a lesser punishment. I'm apparently a victim to your mad ravings."

"Mad ravings. Unbelievable…" Vexen took a ferocious bite from his everything-bagel, now speaking with a full mouth. "You're lucky, being intelligent and young. You still have hopes that people will listen to you." He swallowed and then sighed. "Do you know what the problem is with us intellectuals? No one respects us. No one cares to hear what we have to say, even if we're the smartest people in the group!"

"It isn't that bad…"

"Oh, really?" Vexen countered. "That dolt Luxord was lauded for suggesting a weekly game night. But I, who has toiled for this Organization for years, who has broken his back delving into the secrets of our nonexistence, who has suffered greatly at everyone's expense, am subject to the cruelest criticism! Why must life be so hard?!"

"You make it seem so terrible. As if we're doomed to fail…"

"Aren't we, Zexion? Aren't we condemned to follow orders, trapped in this bleak, bleak castle?! Oh, to think of the potential I'm squandering here. Yet, where else will I be accepted? Creatures like us are one of a kind, restricted to this sorry group we call an Organization."

"Vexen…"

"Think of it! We're the most endangered species in the universe! Humanoid samples of nothing! And what do we do but bicker in a bland conference room and visit worlds far more interesting than our own!"

"Vexen!"

"We can change the world, you and me! All of the worlds! We know more about the workings of the heart than anyone else in the universe! We just need people to listen to us! Proper colleagues, comrades, cohorts…"

"VEXEN, WATCH OUT!"

But it was too late, for the blazing object that was falling from the sky that had caught the young apprentice's attention struck Vexen in the head.

"Argh! My skull!" Vexen groaned in pain, hoping one of his colleagues would hear him from inside. Alas, no one did.

Zexion picked up the strange item, analyzing it closely. "Hm. It appears to be some sort of meteorite, two inches in diameter, consisting of…gummi material."

"Give me that!" Vexen grabbed the gummi from his apprentice's hand, closely examining it, digging through the malleable material to find a metal orb firmly rooted in the meteorite's center. "Hm. It seems to contain a censor of some kind. Possibly blown off a bigger ship. See the scorch marks here."

"Fascinating! I've never seen this kind of gummi technology."

"Nor have I," Vexen agreed. "What it's for, though, I cannot say." It was a fascinating gift from the heavens, this gummi. The chilly academic couldn't help but look at it. "I will examine this further. Return inside. Enjoy yourself."

"Whatever you command, Vexen," Zexion dryly replied, retreating to the rest of the group.

Vexen continued to study the gummi block, carefully rubbing his injured cranium. This would be sure to open numerous possibilities.

"This is going nowhere!" Vexen cursed himself as he was strolling the castle's exterior. "It's just a hunk of junk! Another bundle of false hope! I don't know why I bother!"

Having given up on yet another failed project, Vexen threw the meteorite aside. Little did he know that the gummi bounced off the castle railing, rolled down the walls, hit Marluxia's windowsill and fell right into one of the graceful assassin's flowerbeds, deeply embedded in the soil.

What would transpire overnight would drastically change the course of Vexen's pitiable life forever.